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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831614">Intent</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyselene/pseuds/heyselene'>heyselene</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Bears, Bees, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Cute, Everyone Is Alive, Familiars, Fluff, Gardens &amp; Gardening, Good Parent John Winchester, Good Parent Naomi (Supernatural), Happy Ending, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Magic, Mary Winchester Lives, Sex Magic, Social Anxiety, Sort of? - Freeform, Sweet Dean Winchester, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Castiel (Supernatural), Witch Castiel (Supernatural), Witch's Familiar Dean Winchester, Witchcraft, Witches, Young Sam Winchester, dean is a bear, which is weird</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:40:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyselene/pseuds/heyselene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is not a good fit for society. He’s quiet on the front, and awkward to talk to. He’s bookish and imaginative. He’s got anxiety pouring out of him, bobbing his leg and chewing at his fingernails. And he’s got a knack for magic.</p><p>Dean is a simple familiar. He likes eating pie, drinking beer. He likes sex and staying out too late under a full moon. And he likes to channel magic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. White Sage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I literally... just wrote this. This is chapter 1 to my 5 chapter October fic (I'm trying to get good at turning out good work quickly. Let me know how that goes, haha). I am going to try to shoot for about 2000 words a chapter, which is pretty short, but that way I actually stick with it. </p><p> It is Witch!Castiel and Familiar!Dean because every time I read one of those I get the hankering to write one. What better time than October! Let me know what you think!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel is not a good fit for society. He’s quiet on the front, and awkward to talk to. He’s bookish and imaginative. He’s got anxiety pouring out of him, bobbing his leg and chewing at his fingernails. And he’s got a knack for magic.</p><p>This should not be a surprise, both Naomi and Carver were fantastic with magic, owners of many apothecaries across the pacific northwest of the United States. They were known for fantastic management and clean magic. Rather than have many small apothecaries with unreliable service, Naomi had turned magic into a chain, allowing small towns to franchise a Novak apothecary as well. The chain had brought magic users the supplies they need at ease for decades.</p><p>Castiel himself should be managing a hefty collection of Novak apothecaries. He should be at work, trying to bundle and mass-produce cooking and cleansing spells for your everyday witch and wizard. Capitalism leaves no rock unturned, not even Castiel’s life.</p><p>But Cas is just… not a good fit for society. His magic is strong— no doubt— but anxious. It's unpredictable. Little outbursts of nerves from his childhood have left him embarrassed and afraid of hurting others. He remembers how it would sound like a balloon popping whenever he got stressed over a potion in school. He recalls how things seemed to sprout at his feet for comfort whenever he was trying to face his social anxiety— in the line at the store, talking to new people, on the school bus.</p><p>Castiel hadn’t been any good working at the apothecary either.</p><p>“Magic reflects your personality, Castiel. If you cannot succeed in controlling it, you may not be a good fit for running the apothecary,” Naomi would say gently, using her own calm energy to fizz out the sparks that had been rushing about Castiel in discomfort and skittishness. Castiel had just continued to stare at the shattered glass bottles he had sitting on the workbench in front of him.</p><p>He prefers spell work anyways, but since life has become more modernized, it really is unnecessary. Everyone wants a general spell bagged for sale.</p><p>So Castiel asked for a little cabin in the woods. He asked for spell work lessons from a private tutor, and Naomi had agreed, petting his hair softly. She set him up on a property far drive from any town, on a river, and in the depths of the woods. She paid for his lessons, visited weekly, and brought food that he couldn’t grow in his garden. She helped him with the spells he attempted until his knowledge of spell-work became even more advanced than she knew how.</p><p>Castiel eventually requested to use some of his inheritance to buy out a shop in the closest town and sell his custom spells out of it from a distance. His mother asked if he wanted to run a few Novaks, but he declined politely. She seemed to have no problem with that and agreed to allow Cas the capital to run his little store.</p><p>His spells sold for good money, but relatively low demand. Custom spells just weren’t as necessary any longer. Castiel had a small staff of two young witches, Charlie and Dorothy, and a human delivery boy from a local high school who was eager to please called Sam.</p><p>Naomi asked often if he had met any familiar’s day to day that seemed interested in him, commenting that perhaps the right person, the right channel to his magic would be able to help him control his energy a little bit better. Castiel rolled his eyes at her every time. No familiar wanted to linger on his magic, skittish, and confused as it was.</p><p>Castiel’s little home became an extension of his magic. The trees around the property grew large and a little unusually, twisting together above his home in a strange embrace. The stone walls that used to have decorative etching were reduced to piles and piles of moon blooming vines and the occasional gargoyle peaking his way out.</p><p>Cas had produced a number of critter safety spells a while back that made the garden within the walls bumble with creatures. Frogs and bees and moths flittered and hopped throughout the plants Castiel kept. He had long ago given up keeping things too organized, his nerves wouldn’t allow for it. If he tried to grow things in neat beds, they would just spill out into more organic space.<br/>
<br/>
So for now, he had a haphazard patch of hearty pumpkins. Carrots and potatoes and an ever-creeping rivulet of mint. Bird baths which he filled daily with fresh water and a variety of charms and crystals throughout. The whole thing was manageable with little stone and gravel paths which Castiel spent long hours puttering around, making himself at home in his own energy.</p><p>He raised a colony of bees, the honey purified in the full moonlight, and sold at his shop. He kept little things left by creatures— butterfly wings and bird feathers. The local ingredients made his spells more powerful, organic.</p><p>His home was warm with fire and piled with books and bits and knickknacks. He wasn’t much for organization, letting his house become a cozy disheveled. His crystal shelves are layered in geode dust. He’s got unlabeled vials and jars fermenting about. He’s taken to hanging herbs to dry all over the place with twine and hemp rather than just on the drying beams.</p><p>His cauldron stand is close to his fireplace now so he can transfer fire from his house warming flame without ever needing to cross the house anymore (that… had been a fiery mistake to begin with.) He’s lived in his home for just shy of twenty years now.</p><p>Castiel leans into the peace he has created for himself, even if it is by himself.</p><p>—</p><p>Dean is a simple familiar. He likes eating pie, drinking beer. He likes sex and staying out too late under a full moon.</p><p>And he likes to channel magic.</p><p>Dean loves to close his eyes and feel all the energies around him, swirling and leaping, colorful until he opens his eyes. He loves to reach for them and grasp on tight, feeling the intent all around him and guiding it along its path or stopping it up. Dean has always had a natural knack for being a keeper of intent. He spent much of his young education in a familiar guild after his parents discovered that he was orienting intention in his favor at preschool. Dean had ended up hogging the dump trucks without another student ever getting as far as thinking about asking for a turn. It was then that people began to recognize what a powerful familiar Dean was.</p><p>The familiar guild had been preferable to him anyway. Pamela didn’t stare or laugh when he shifted naturally into a bear cub. Pamela sent happy intent his way and leaned into it when Dean encouraged it along. Exposure to witches who understood how intent affected Dean was all he needed to figure out how to orient himself with the world.</p><p>Dean was powerful. The fact that he was able to interact with intention without a physical touch was impressive for being a child. Often it took practice.</p><p>Dean is unwilling to be like his mother was, blind to how her ability to channel magic was far beyond his Father’s uncertain and cool energy. Dean could feel how powerfully his mother could move magic about, without a point of contact just as Dean— just concentration and a steadfast mind.</p><p>It wasn’t unusual for someone with magic and a familiar to marry one another and have children— just unusual for someone as powerful as his mother had been to indenture her services to someone with as little respect for magic as John Winchester had.</p><p>John’s poor magical abilities were likely a launching pad for his later distaste for magic. John became more and more convinced that those with magic abilities were at an unfair advantage, becoming an activist for humanities. Dean never quite had anything against simple humans, but he did wonder how his father could feel that way when he had obviously been actively channeling magic with Mary for decades.</p><p>Dean wondered how much of John’s passion really had to do with Sam, who had been born simply human, not a magical bone in his body. Sam was intelligent beyond belief, and deeply involved with their magical community anyways. He had even become a delivery boy for a small apothecary in town now that he was old enough to get a job. John claimed Sam was his reason for advocating, whenever he and Dean fought about it.</p><p>And even if Dean wasn’t standing up for his own kind, he was also kind of hurt that it had seemed John had picked Sam over Dean.</p><p>Even after being naturally gifted, and a high achieving familiar, just like his mother, John seemed to care less.</p><p>Dean refuses to become trapped with someone who would stop him. He never takes on a full-time witch or wizard, and promises himself he will never fall in love with one. Dean would rather be a bachelor, with incredible magic one night stands than tie himself to someone who will stop him from channeling magic. Stop him from getting that rush.</p><p>In the woods on a rainy day, the clouds threatening from above, the trees quaking with it. The energy built in the air. The way the forest floor’s undergrowth and rotting foliage made vitality. How their neighbors, tucked in the next cabin over drifted quietly with different feelings and aims, lighting across Dean’s radar in the periphery. Dean could fasten himself to the weight of the world, the life of the forest, and tug it into him. He’d tug it into his heart and through his chest, leading it down through his feet and into the ground, pulling the power through himself in a way that was intoxicating. Rushing through his temples, his lungs, his groin, to the flats of his feet and releasing in a live wire.</p><p>And once he was manifesting as a bear, having his chin rested on a witch or wizard as they actively pushed magic from within them— within them! Dean could think of nothing else more intoxicating, nothing more intimate and fulfilling than helping with casting. Dean was damn good at it, and he wanted to keep doing what he was made for until the day he died.</p><p>That was why he worked for Lafitte’s. The owner, Benny, connected witches in need of magical help with familiars available to assist. Dean had helped put up houses, win court cases, assist with financial work and revitalize after forest fires. Whatever the witches wanted, Dean was willing to help.</p><p>And every day after work, John would come to pick Dean up and drive him home in the Chevy Impala.</p><p>Dean shifts human as he trudges out to the Impala, loathing the feeling of being on two feet instead of four after a wonderful day of being in bear form.</p><p>“How was work?” John grunts as Dean gets in the car. He’s eyeing Dean a bit oddly like he’s uncomfortable with the fact that Dean had just been a black bear. Dean thinks it's ridiculous every time his dad gets weird about it— his fucking wife is a black bear too, for gods’ sake.</p><p>“Fine,” Dean says, throat still a little rough and growly. He clears it.</p><p>John puts it in reverse, “Benny paying you well? This was a long shift.”</p><p>Dean scoffs at the worry in his Dad’s voice. As if John cares, “He’s fine dad. At least Benny is appreciative of all the cool opportunities there are for familiars around here— there aren’t very many locally-owned agencies like his left.”</p><p>John hums at this, dismissive.</p><p>“What?” Dean asks defensively.</p><p>They turn onto the long winding road through the woods as John speaks, “Nothing.”</p><p>“No, Dad, what is it?” Dean asks. This is an argument old as time. All Dean and John seem to do now is argue.</p><p>John sighs, “You know there aren’t very many small owned businesses like Benny’s left because most of them are heavily regulated by the Human Services Administration.”</p><p>“Yeah, and it’s ass,” Dean says abrasively.</p><p>“It’s safer to be well regulated,” John argues.</p><p>“It’s magic, Dad. It’s not supposed to be <em>regulated, </em>it’s supposed to be free,” Dean snips.</p><p>“It’s regulated to keep people safe,” John retorts.</p><p>“You think I’m dangerous?”</p><p>“I didn’t say that, you know what I mean, Dean.”</p><p>“No, I don’t. What do you mean, Dad, because I’m starting to get the feeling you don’t think my job is worthwhile.”</p><p>John groans, “It’s not that, Dean, I just think Benny’s is going to be one of the last of it’s kind because of the human activists. Magic just isn’t fair.”</p><p>“So I’m unfair?”</p><p>“Dean—”</p><p>“This wasn’t my choice, Dad. I didn’t pick to be a familiar, it’s in my blood. But I would never choose to go against who I am, the way I was born.”</p><p>John barks, “I know it’s not up to you, this isn’t about you, it’s about—”</p><p>“It’s not about me? Like hell, it’s not about me. You can’t have one nice thing to say about my job, you just get all judgmental and hateful when I’m the best damn familiar they’ve got, the best one in the fucking region, you know that?"</p><p>“Dean—”</p><p>“In the fucking region, Dad, okay? I use magic, and yeah, it might be an advantage, but its who I am. You’re just fucking sour because your magic is weaker than a fucking grade-schooler's,” Dean finishes hotly.</p><p>John is gripping the steering wheel. He is silent. He slows the Impala to a stop, pulling off onto the gravel shoulder with a crunch and a rumble of engine.<br/>
<br/>
Dean can hear the wind blowing through the trees now that they’re pulled over in the middle of nowhere. John doesn’t look at him. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.</p><p>“Get out,” John says quietly, voice with controlled anger.</p><p>Dean stares at his father. The way he’s white-knuckling the steering wheel, how his little wisp of weak magic is flaring hot and his human intention is moments away from punching something.</p><p>“Yeah, okay,” Dean says, shrugging, grabbing for his bag and getting out of the Impala. He slams the door roughly behind him, flipping his Dad the bird.</p><p>John revs the engine and pulls back onto the road with a squeal of tires, zipping away from where he has left Dean, standing in the cool summer breeze, sky gray and trees darkening the forest around him.</p><p>Dean rolls his eyes and hikes his bag over his shoulder.</p><p>It’s going to be a long walk home.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Yew</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cas squints at the mortar in front of him. The lavender he just crushed into the dish is not quite fully dried yet, and the moisture content made the dish quite sticky. Cas considers the thought that perhaps this lavender would cause the spell to retain further vitality. He holds a hand over the dish to feel for the power it contains. Dry lavender was surely aromatic, but the release of energy from recently picked herbs...</p><p>Castiel’s phone rings. The violence of the ring makes the handset rattle almost off the base. The motion sends up a puff of dust— his phone never rings.</p><p>Castiel rounds on his stool. His heart pounds in his chest. Who is calling him? Not his mother, they had a set day to see each other. The shop? No, they sent news with the human boy Sam when he came biweekly for picking up deliveries.</p><p>Could it be a telemarketer? Castiel doesn’t know if he has it in him to speak to a telemarketer.</p><p>The energy in the room begins to spark anxiously, and the wood on his walls creaking dangerously.</p><p>Cas flinches as it rings again, his breathing quickening as he started to panic. If he doesn’t pick up, he might never know who it was, he might let someone down. If he doesn’t pick up, he’d be on edge all day.</p><p>But if he does pick up, what would he say? He has no way to predict who might be on the other end of the line. If he spent all this time worrying over a robot telemarketer, he’d beat himself up after. If it is someone, however... they would find him confused and unable to have a conversation like a normal wizard adult.</p><p>Castiel realizes that he needs to make a decision before the phone rings out.</p><p>He leaps from his workspace, his cloak drifting behind him, still clothed in pajamas and feet bare. He pads nervously to the phone, buried behind a pile of books and papers.</p><p>Hesitantly, he reaches for the receiver, like it could burn his hand upon contact. He yanks it up, cord letting off an impressive cloud of dust. Cas shoves the phone to his ear, waving wildly with his free hand to get the dust cloud away from his face.</p><p>“Hello? Cassie?” A tiny voice with a British accent asks.</p><p>Cas coughs, “Balthazar?”</p><p>Balthazar is a cousin from Great Britain who had gotten a posting in France quite a few years ago. He used to spend summers in Oregon with Castiel’s family when they were children but since leaving for France, Castiel had barely seen him. Balthazar always seems to take Castiel’s unusual magic in stride.</p><p>“It <em>is</em> you! I thought your mother was lying when she told me you could only be reached at a landline, for gods' sake Cassie, it’s 2020, get an iPhone,” Balthazar rambles.</p><p>“There isn’t service out here. It’s an enchanted-d landline,” Castiel fumbles on his words. His nerves are making little sprouts come up around his toes, and Castiel takes a deep breath to get them to stop.</p><p>“Well of course there isn’t service, what with you living in the middle of nowhere if your mother has been honest with me!” Balth laughs.</p><p>Castiel winces. He is sure the laugh was good-natured, but it still hurts to hear it at his expense.</p><p>“I like my home,” Cas says quietly.</p><p>Balthazar must hear the uncertainty in Cas’ voice, because his tone takes to more soothing with his next words, “I am sure it’s lovely, Castiel. That actually is what I was calling about. I am hoping to come to visit you.”</p><p>Cas is silent for a moment. He’s given up stopping the vines as they creep up his calves.</p><p>“Do you need help with a spell?” He asks finally.</p><p>“No,” Balthazar says.</p><p>It’s quiet again for a moment.</p><p>“Uh,” Cas says into the receiver. He fidgets with the cord of the phone.</p><p>“I just want to see my favorite cousin,” Balthazar says finally.<br/>
<br/>
Cas blinks to himself.</p><p>“I’m at Portland International right now. I’m here for a conference, but I took a week so I could see Naomi and Carver. I just found out that you’re still not living at the house in Forest Grove,” Balthazar explains.</p><p>“No, I still live east of Siltcoos. It’s across the lake from Dune City. That’s kind of… that’s a long drive Balth,” Cas stutters.</p><p>“That’s okay! It will be nice to road trip a little bit. I miss America, particularly the northwest,” Balthazar assures him.</p><p>“O-okay,” Cas says, shifting from one foot to another, kicking as the little sprouts squeeze nervously at him.</p><p>“Can you send me your address?” Balthazar asks excitedly.</p><p>“Uh, sure,” Cas says, “Are you sure you want to come out here? I mean, there really isn’t anything to—”</p><p>“I want to see you! It’s been too long,” Balthazar whines, “I miss you, Cassie”</p><p>“Fine, okay, when should I expect you?” Cas winces as he observes his home in disarray. He begins to pick at his cuticles, ignoring the way that he’s made a mess of the room with foliage and dust.</p><p> “…Thursday?”</p><p>Castiel settles. 6 days from now.</p><p>“Is that too soon?”</p><p>“Next Thursday?” Cas clarifies.</p><p>“…”</p><p>“Balthazar?”</p><p>“Uh, tomorrow Thursday.”</p><p>Cas chokes on his spit, eyes widening. He has to actively settle his magic now as it sparks up against his skin.</p><p>“That’ll be okay, right? I only get this week off and I really want to come to see you,” Balthazar tries to convince him.</p><p>“I guess…”</p><p>“Then it’s settled! I will see you on Thursday at 3:00. I can get your address from Naomi instead, I didn’t even think of that until now. I’ll bring some of those craft beers that you liked last time,” Balthazar says hurriedly like he knows Cas is uncertain.</p><p>“It’s alright, I have wine,” Cas says nervously.</p><p>“Your homemade wine? That stuff is too sweet for me, Castiel, your mother had a bottle last Christmas— oh, here I’ve got to go, talk soon, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Balthazar says, “Bye-bye, Castiel!”</p><p>“Goodb—” The line cuts.</p><p>Castiel is, for the lack of a better word, fucked.</p><p>—</p><p>Dean has been on this road many times before. Never walking, but many times. There is quite literally nothing. It’s an old paved road with gravel shoulders, right up against forest so thick that it’s dark even when it’s a sunny day. Dean loves this particular road in the fall when things start to turn at least a little bit. Some things don’t turn, like the pacific silver furs and the red cedars. The madrones and the pacific dogwoods tend to go yellow and orange in late fall.</p><p>For now, in the lingering August warmth, everything is still green.It is overcast and breezy, and all around him smells like earth. The sky isn’t charged like it’s going to storm, but there’s an edge to the humidity of the wind that sets Dean to get his feelers out to see what’s happening in the forest around him. He considers shifting to his bear, but it's hard to carry a bag when you have four legs.</p><p>Dean reaches out and finds a river off to the left side of the road. It’s significant enough that it's rushing with water, bubbling over rocks and fallen trees. He can sense critters along the river and above in the branches.</p><p>His mind catches something weird. He almost drifts right over it, because it’s far enough in the woods that it’s sort of out of his mind’s view. He senses a little bit of panic, so he reaches for it, pausing in his stride to try and figure out what he’s feeling.</p><p>It’s someone with magic. Dean is surprised that anyone would live or even be hiking around out here. Dean thought all the land out on this road was a national forest. That being said, in Oregon it’s so hard to tell what’s privately owned land and what’s government-owned forest that it could be that Dean has stumbled upon a home.</p><p>He closes his eyes, focusing in to try and decipher more of what’s going on. The edge of panic is a cause for concern. He hopes everything is alright with whoever this stranger is. He twines his energy out and reaches to catch the other.</p><p>He just gets glimpses of a tangle of emotions. Rushed nerves and building panic. Struggle to complete something… frustration. Embarrassment? But Dean can feel underneath, concern that cuts back strong. Fear that has been built upon for a long time. Longing.</p><p>Beyond the contents of what he’s found, the biggest show stopper is the sheer <em>power </em>that is fussing around with all these emotions. This witch or wizard is practically gushing with magic, its spilling out into the forest around them, sparking like mad. Dean’s mouth practically salivates with the pressure of the magic, even this far away.For a moment, he lets himself imagine what it would be like to channel a magic that strong. He wonders what it would feel like to let power flow freely between them, maybe even touch them to sustain the connection. Maybe even kiss them, hold them, make them lose control with his fingers or lips or—</p><p>Dean has to shake his head. What the fuck? This person is clearly in a state of disarray, and here’s Dean, half hard on the side of a road imagining fucking someone he’s never even met. Someone who’s age, gender, and sexuality he hasn’t the faintest inkling of. 

Someone is in need of help, magical help, and Dean can offer it. That's all that will happen here.</p><p>Dean sets his own unruly hormones aside. He wanders to the edge of the woods, now fully intent on figuring out what’s wrong. He shifts his backpack off his shoulders, shifts into his bear, and grabs for one of the straps with his mouth. The undergrowth is soft on his paws, the pine needles smelling stronger now that he is so close to the earth. He follows the strength of the magic, trudging into the woods towards where he can hear the stream rushing. </p><p>As a bear, Dean can feel the ins and outs of the magic even more clearly. He is able to almost taste the way it's shifting. It’s not one coherent stream of energy, that is for certain. The guiding part of Dean aches to soothe it, to give it direction. The intent has more potential than anyone Dean has had the pleasure of helping, even as uneasy as it is.  </p><p>He follows the magic as it gets stronger and stronger. The woods are even more beautiful as he gets away from the area where the trees have been pruned back for the road.</p><p>About twenty feet later, Dean stumbles on a small dirt path. It's small, but worn, as though it does get used occasionally. There are a few tracks, a set of tire treads from a car, a mark left by a bicycle, and a couple of sets of footprints in dried mud. Dean takes off down the path, hoping this will lead him to the source of the discontent ahead.</p><p>Dean sees the wall before anything else. It’s hard to make out— there’s ivy and moss growing up stone, dotted here and there with glimpses to the rock. There are enchanted gargoyles, Dean can tell they have charms because they watch as he approaches.</p><p>Beyond the walls is a small cottage, smoke rising up from the back chimney, drifting with the wind. Two myrtle trees twist together above the home, the branches interlocked. The paneled roof curves with the doorways and windows of the cottage, a worn brown. The siding is a plaster material, seemingly over stone. The windows are stained glass, uneven blue and green.</p><p>Dean has never been here before, but something about it feels as though it wouldn’t be hard to imagine calling it home. And it’s not only the gargoyles that are charmed— Dean can sense heavy enchantments on the whole place.</p><p>Finally he makes his way to the opening in the walls and peers into what he assumes is the garden.</p><p>Dean will later take time to look at the garden more carefully— notice the moonflowers and the birdbaths, the different mosses and fungi that bloom together in plenty, obviously with the support of magic.For now, Dean’s attention is completely taken by the figure which is standing in the garden.<br/>
<br/>
A wizard is standing, feet shoulder-width apart, eyes closed, face turned skyward. His palms hover at his front, palms down, as though he’s warming them in a fire. He’s barefoot, and in what looks like a baby blue pajama set. A thick black cloak is wrapped around his shoulders, a couple sizes too big— the band is undone so Dean can see underneath to where a little bit of stomach skin is revealed from his shirt tucked funny.</p><p>Around him, the path and garden are shifting as the wizard wills them.</p><p>His dark hair is unruly, and sparking with magic. His lips part with muttered words and his brow furrows occasionally in concentration. His skin is a tanned and his cheeks rough from a few days unshaven.</p><p>Dean wonders why this beautiful man is tucked away in the woods, so far away from everyone and everything.</p><p>Then he notices instantly that things aren’t sticking correctly. Something has the wizard on edge. His magic tucks a brick back into place only for it to fall moments later. Mushrooms are organized into one place only for more to pop up haphazardly.</p><p>Dean knows nervous magic when he sees it, and observing this man that desperately needs the anchor that a familiar could provide has Dean padding lightly into the garden towards him.</p><p>—</p><p>Castiel keeps trying to concentrate, but every spell feels like pulling teeth. He can barely get anything to stick. It’s almost like he’s making things worse by trying at all.</p><p>After Balthazar hung up on him, Cas had been in a panic realizing that his only guest room was surely covered in a shocking amount of dust and a plethora of odds and ends. Even worse, the garden, a sign of a wizard’s strength and energy, was in disarray, organized like his higgledy-piggledy mind. He started to clean carefully, hands and magic together trying desperately to calm himself and get things in order.</p><p>This is how Cas ends up in his front garden, barefoot in the moss and desperately concentrating on trying to get things sorted out. Concentrating so hard that he barely notices a new energy make its way into his sanctuary.</p><p>Now, Castiel has his home warded up to the nines. The path itself cannot even be happened across if someone has poor intentions or mistakes upon it. In order for anything to make it within a mile of his home, it has to be something that poses no threat to Castiel or his well-being. So when Castiel senses a small black bear appears at the edge of his garden, making its way towards him, Cas just assumes it’s a regular old bear.</p><p>But, a peak of his eye and a quick bit of magic reaching else quickly tells him otherwise.</p><p>His strand of curious magic is met with the careful embrace of a familiar, guiding from afar.</p><p>Castiel freezes. The crystals he was carefully putting in place fall back to the ground, and the movement of his plants shutters to a halt. Castiel stops and gazes apprehensively at the person before him.</p><p>The bear is a bit smaller than black bears he has seen in the woods about his home. It is watching him carefully with eyes that are almost human. Its fur is sleek and clean, like it is used to being cleaned frequently.</p><p>Castiel cannot help himself, he reaches out another strand of shaky magic. Who is this? How did this person find him? What does this person want from him, and how did they make it past his magical reinforcements?</p><p>The magic is met with metaphorically open arms. The familiar receives it calmly and lets it flow back in a loop, stable and clear instead. Castiel feels himself start to calm down out of instinct— it feels so good to get magic so pure and cared for in return. Castiel has to remind himself to be on guard rather than take this magic and start using it. It is rare that Cas is able to get his hands on this much magic that is so steady.</p><p>He has to take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming— is this what it’s like to work with a familiar? Is this what it’s like to use magic without fear of it being erratic?</p><p>He stares at the familiar, looking into his eyes before whispering, “Who are you?”</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Crystal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I decided to rate this teen a long time ago when I first started it. There is not expect sex here, but it reads as very intimate, so if you feel the tags aren't mature enough, let me know! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The familiar doesn’t seem phased by Castiel’s question. They extend themselves to Castiel, making it clear their intention is nothing but positive. Castiel can’t help but lean into the willingness with his own power. It feels like long awaited relief.</p><p>The bear moves closer to Castiel, padding cautiously into his space. Cas watches the animal carefully, wondering how they even came across him this far away from anything else. The bear rises up to its hind legs, suddenly becoming a much more imposing form than it had been before.</p><p>Suddenly, with a waver of particles and an uncomfortable sucking noise, the bear before him is a man.</p><p>He’s probably around Castiel’s age, if not a little bit younger. He’s paler than Cas is, with spatters of brown and tan freckles about his cheekbones and nose. He’s got dirty blonde hair, almost brown. He bends down to grab for the bag that he had dropped before he put himself back in human form.</p><p>Castiel cannot help but feel more apprehensive now that this familiar has revealed himself in his human form. Bears, birds, toads, Castiel can handle. It’s other human beings that make Castiel start to second guess his every movement.</p><p>“Uh, you’re a f-familiar,” Cas says smartly.</p><p>The man’s brow furrows, but he smiles a little too, “Yes. Couldn’t you feel?”</p><p>The question is genuine, Castiel can feel that the familiar is actually curious.</p><p>Cas nods wordlessly, unable to figure out how to speak.</p><p>“You’re a wizard,” The man states, “And it felt like you needed some help.”</p><p>Castiel’s brows pull together, “Some help?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah. I was in the area and I felt you trying to do something and having trouble.”</p><p>Castiel stares.</p><p>“I thought maybe I could help you with whatever spells you were trying to perform.”</p><p>“By…?” Castiel hesitantly asks.</p><p>“By channeling your magic?” The familiar asks, looking confused.</p><p>“Oh. Why would you want to do that?”</p><p>The familiar laughs, “Are you kidding me? Dude, that much magic?”</p><p>Castiel blinks, puzzled.</p><p>“I’ve never felt someone with that much magic in my <em>life. </em>It would be so awesome to get to conduct it.”</p><p>Cas blushes, “Oh.”</p><p>Castiel knows he’s strong— that’s the problem. His magic is skittish and powerful at the same time, a recipe for disaster.</p><p>The familiar tilts his head, “What’s the matter?”</p><p>“You don’t have to do that for me. You don’t even know me,” Castiel lies through his discomfort. Even if this familiar is genuinely kindhearted and eager doesn’t mean Castiel wouldn’t possibly hurt him.</p><p>“I really don’t mind,” The familiar presses, eyes sparkly.</p><p> “I d-don’t even know your name,” Castiel fights weakly.</p><p>The familiar shakes his head, laugh falling from his lips like it’s got magic in it too. He walks forward slowly into Cas’ space with one hand extended, “Hi, I’m Dean.”</p><p>Cas’ breath hitches a little at the thought of touching this strange man. To his alarm, it’s a strange mix of excitement and fear. Castiel is afraid of having someone so close, nervous to be meeting the first new person he has encountered in months. At the same time, he is embarrassed to admit that he finds this familiar— Dean — to be sweetly attractive.</p><p>And to top that concoction of confusing emotions off, his magic is practically salivating at the idea of touching Dean.</p><p>Castiel is trapped though too. He cannot very well not take Dean’s hand now that it is extended, fingers calloused and freckly.</p><p>Castiel wills his magic back to as calm of a simmer as he can manage and takes Dean’s hand. He trembles helplessly as he leans in. Dean’s palm is warm as he shakes, and Castiel beings to relax. Dean’s face is friendly too, and perhaps Castiel is able to handle more than he thought he was—</p><p>Cas sucks in air when Dean squeezes his hand a little, sensing Castiel’s nerves and reaching out for Castiel’s magic invitingly. Dean is opening up for Castiel to slip and slide right into that link that they have already begun to create without contact.</p><p>Cas frowns, gulping as he looks at Dean and feeling as his magic jumps with his anxiety. Castiel does not want to hurt anyone. That’s why he moved away, distanced himself from ever having to encounter situations like this.</p><p>“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean says, voice much gentler now that they are closer, “What’s your name?”</p><p>“C-Castiel,” Cas stutters, eyes locked on Dean’s.</p><p>“I’m not gonna hurt you, Castiel,” Dean reassures him.</p><p>“I know t-that,” Cas whispers.</p><p>Dean’s eyes are suddenly light with understanding.</p><p>“You won’t hurt me,” Dean says, voice certain, “I promise.”</p><p>For some reason, the combination of Dean’s words, his steady grip, the welcoming warmth of his energy and those little freckles on the bridge of Dean’s nose have Castiel trusting him enough to let his magic swim forward a little into Dean’s embrace.</p><p>It feels much like it did when Castiel’s magic brushed up against Dean from afar, except one hundred times more intense. The energy pushed through contact of their hands is enough for Dean to instantly even out all but a few of the sparking nerves in Castiel. Cas is able to see the situation more clearly the moment that his mind clears. As a knee jerk reaction, he takes the pure magic that Dean is feeding him and sends it back Dean’s way hesitantly.</p><p>Dean’s lips part, his eyes getting a little glassy as he breathes, “Woah.”</p><p>Castiel thinks, in the back of his mind, that the word is a little bit cryptic. If this familiar wasn’t doing such a good job making Castiel’s anxieties docile, Cas would be peeling apart the intonation and context as though it contained secrets.</p><p>Castiel does have the sense to ease back when Dean speaks, and Dean tries to follow Cas as he retreats, leaning in for more. Castiel has to blink in surprise.</p><p>“Damn,” Deans says as their hands finally slip apart, “That was fucking awesome.”</p><p>Cas has to shake his head to clear it. He cannot help but feel his lips pull up in a smile of disbelief at Dean’s statement.</p><p>“So, can I help you with this?” Dean asks, gesturing to the garden around them.</p><p>Cas nods slowly, incredulously, not sure what else he can possibly say.</p><p>Dean breaks into a grin, “Cool. Where do we start?”</p><p>—</p><p>Dean’s assistance makes Castiel wonder if he had been too hasty in never seeking out a familiar to help him with his day to day magic.</p><p>With his magic flowing to and from Dean, suddenly, Castiel could hardly remember why he had been struggling before. Castiel would push his power into Dean’s awaiting arms, then accept it back, smooth and strong with his intent.</p><p>They got all of the crystals in Castiel’s garden to nestle nicely in a bed of moss near to one of his birdbaths. They swept the overgrown mint into submission, collecting it all into one flowerbed and watching while little treefrogs scattered to search for other cover.</p><p>He had been struggling the most to get his pumpkins in order, trying his best not to hurt the flesh as he lifted them from their tangles of roots. He couldn’t help but feel nervous about hurting them (and Dean) as they worked, but everything seemed to slot together evenly.</p><p>The rushing feeling that connecting with Dean brings sort of becomes hazy when they push the magic out with more intent. Without the feedback loop of energy getting trapped, Castiel actually decides it doesn’t feel so dangerous.</p><p>Dean even tested the waters, pushed back against Castiel for a moment, moving their magic towards the moonflowers that dotted the fence and giving them a little bit of love to spruce them up to the point that their blooms almost dripped with perfume. Castiel hadn’t even thought to give his moonflowers some affection— they always seemed to just bloom on their own.With a little attention though, they practically dripped with pollen, and Castiel had a feeling there would be more moths around for a while.</p><p>By the time they finish the garden, Castiel is more relaxed than he has been in <em>years.</em></p><p>He’s got a palm resting around Dean’s wrist, Dean’s hand doing the same to Cas’, his palm hot against Castiel’s pulse. It’s more contact that Castiel has felt for a long time. </p><p>As Cas runs out of chores to complete outdoors, he slowly stops pushing magic at Dean.</p><p>Dean doesn’t seem to get the hint, reaching for Castiel’s energy in a way that Castiel cannot help but react too. It is intoxicating how much Dean wants him, how strongly he pulls. Castiel blushes, glancing at Dean quickly. He wonders if this is normal for a familiar.</p><p>Dean looks towards Cas and meets his gaze— something in Castiel’s eyes seems to shake Dean out of his haze.</p><p>His fingers falter on Castiel’s wrist, and suddenly, insecure, Castiel lets go of Dean, his own hand hanging loosely in Dean’s grasp.</p><p>“Sorry,” Dean says, voice rough with whatever he’s feeling. He clears his throat, “I don’t want to let go of our connection, I like how it feels to channel your magic.”</p><p>Castiel’s face is bright red, burning with this admission.</p><p>“Ah, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable Cas. I hope you’re not uncomfortable,” Dean scratches the back of his neck nervously.</p><p>Castiel stutters on his words, “It’s f-fine. I’m just not used to familiars, like I said.”</p><p>“Yeah, what’s the deal with that? You not got any familiar friends or something?” Dean asks, relaxing into Castiel’s acceptance of the apology.</p><p>“N-no,” Cas stammers.</p><p>“Not even someone to help out on days like these? The garden looks fucking amazing now, I can’t believe what a little bit of magic did to the place. Not that it wasn’t gorgeous before,” Dean plows on.</p><p>“Gorgeous,” Cas repeats.</p><p>“For sure! This place is like a dream come true, Cas. All those charms on the gates, on the plants, I can tell you’ve worked hard on it. I’m trying to talk myself out of asking to see inside as we speak.”</p><p>“You want to see inside my home?” Cas asks, incredulous. His heart picks up, his magic floundering all of the sudden with nerves.</p><p>The inside of his home is most certainly more of a mess than the outside.</p><p>Castiel had forgotten that Dean is still holding gently on his wrist, his palm warm and inviting and sustaining the contact that makes it easier than ever for Dean to pick up how he’s feeling.</p><p>Cas watches as Dean’s face shows him picking up on Castiel’s anxieties. Dean frowns, turning Cas’ hand over in his and threading their fingers together reassuringly.</p><p>“Hey, you do not need to let me anywhere near your space if you’re uncomfortable with it,” Dean reassures, squeezing Castiel’s hand gently.</p><p>Cas settles at this, nodding. Of course, Castiel has no obligation to let this man anywhere near his home. No one new ever has to see the mess that Cas has made of his little life in the woods. No one except…</p><p>Balthazar.</p><p>Castiel sighs, “On second though, Dean, would you be willing to help me with something?”</p><p>Cas swears he can see glitz sparkle from Dean’s every movement as he nods eagerly.</p><p>—</p><p>One cottage-clean later and Dean and Castiel are the closest to fucked-out that anything non-sexual can do to a familiar and wizard. Dean isn’t used to channeling something so potent and having his partner have no control over how it loops back. Dean’s muscles are relaxed, his head buzzing pleasantly, tingling with the dopamine that connecting and helping gives him.</p><p>Cas was probably worse off, his eyes glazed, just dark pupils with rings of bright blue. He’s sweated through his blue pajama set, and thus unbuttoned just the top two buttons, revealing tanned skin, dewy with sweat. Dean catches the sparks from Castiel’s hair out of his periphery as they work. They start to trail like fireworks as Castiel gets more comfortable, more drunk on their combination.</p><p>They end up settled at Castiel’s newly clean, shining oak table to cool off once the place is largely swept into tidiness. Cas retrieves two cups, a pitcher of opaque liquid and ice from his icebox.</p><p>Dean takes a long drink of whatever it is Castiel has put in the glass. It’s sweet and tart, like a lemonade but a little bit richer.</p><p>Cas is relaxed in the chair next to him, his feet still up in Dean’s lap from where he settled them as they had been finishing up the last of cleaning Cas’ cottage. Neither of them can give up contact totally at this point. They’re both too attached to each other at the moment, coming down from the magic use.</p><p>“What is this? It’s delicious,” Dean compliments the drink.</p><p>Cas takes a drink from his own blown glass, the pink of his tongue coming out to lick after the acidity of the beverage off his lips.</p><p>Dean has to pretend that the little slip of tongue doesn’t make his face heat red.</p><p>“I suppose it’s technically limeade. I’ve made it with my own moon-honey and limes. There is some sage boiled into the water as well. I would say I made it because of the positive impact on one’s health… except for that it is simply just one of my favorite things to drink,” Cas explains.</p><p>This makes Dean smile, “How’d you get limes out here? There’s no way they grow in this type of weather.”</p><p>“You underestimate me, Dean,” Cas teases hesitantly, Dean can feel the little anxiety flickering from Cas at the thought that Dean won’t understand that he is attempting humor.</p><p>Dean laughs, and Cas settles immediately, “Me? Underestimate the guy who’s got a garden charmed to the nines? With that kind of power you’re packing? The last thing I’d do is underestimate you.”</p><p>Castiel blushes back, then speaks, “You are correct though. My mother comes out occasionally and brings the things I cannot grow myself. It works well for me.”</p><p>“Your mom, huh? You got a good relationship with your parents, Cas?” Dean asks, his free hand falling to touch Castiel’s ankle.</p><p>Cas seems to consider for a moment, watching Dean’s thumb run against his bare skin.</p><p>“I would say good, yes. For what it’s worth, they care about me,” Cas says softly.</p><p>“For what it’s worth?” Dean asks, wondering what that means. Cas seems sad.</p><p>“I’m not… I’m just not the child they were hoping for,” Cas explains.</p><p>Dean hums at this, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“That’s quite alright Dean. I’ve come to terms with it,” Cas placates, “How is your relationship with your family?”</p><p>Dean has to consider this as well. He looks around at the coziness of Castiel’s cottage: the hanging herbs and crystals casting rainbows. The scent of lemon and basil from cleaning, the buzzing of energy off of every surface of the place carefully managed by their joint energies.</p><p>“I love them, y’know? But I don’t think I would be happy if I ended up like them,” Dean supplies.</p><p>Cas seems to think on this for a moment before he speaks, “I think our parents teach us what to do as much as they teach us what not to do.”</p><p>Dean nods at this, chuckling, “Makes me wonder what my kids will do differently than I have.”</p><p>“Do you plan on having children?” Cas deadpans, and Dean’s heart leaps at this.</p><p>Dean snorts, “Nah, no man. Not really. I just meant hypothetically.”</p><p>Cas doesn’t seem to think anything of this asking instead, “Where do you come from? Clearly you are familiar with the woods.”</p><p>“Not these ones really, to be honest. I live in town, I’ve been down the road closest to your place a million times, but never on foot so I’ve never felt your magic before. Shame,” Dean explains.</p><p>“That’s probably a good thing,” Cas replies.</p><p>Dean frowns at this, why is Castiel so afraid?</p><p>“What do you mean?” Dean asks him.</p><p>“I am out here by myself for a reason. When I use magic I tend to… get out of hand. As you’ve seen,” Cas explains, his voice quiet.</p><p>“Come on man, you weren’t <em>that</em> out of control this afternoon. Just out of practice,” Dean tries to comfort.</p><p>“Dean,” Cas smiles sadly, leaning forward and shaking his head. He starts to pull his ankles away from Dean’s grasp.</p><p>Dean holds on tighter, “Now wait a minute Cas, I’m being serious. You don’t need to be so scared.”</p><p>“I appreciate your confidence, but I assure you, we both should be,” Cas disagrees.</p><p>Dean can’t understand why Cas could possibly think that. He considers the possibility that someone has told Cas he’s dangerous, “Did someone tell you that you need to be afraid?”</p><p>Cas frowns, his magic sparking with a little bit of indignation, “Of course, but only because I was close to hurting them.”</p><p>“Close isn’t actually hurting anyone,” Dean pushes back.</p><p>“Close enough,” Cas bites, but his voice is marked with anxiety.</p><p>Dean huffs out a sigh as Cas pulls away into his own personal space, shutting down and causing a couple puffs of dust and sparks and leaves to puff about his energy nervously.</p><p>“Listen Cas, I know I don’t know you, but it seems like you might not spend a lot of time with a familiar,” Dean tries, gentler this time, “That can really make all the difference, I’m sure you know. From school, or training, or something like—"</p><p>But Cas is trembling in the aftermath of what they have just said to one another, barely listening, clearly distressed, fizzing at the corners.</p><p>Dean cannot watch it for another second once he realizes the distress this brief exchange has caused Cas. His words cut off, panicking at the sight of his new friend so distraught.</p><p>One moment Cas is curling in on himself, shrinking into his own crossed arms and tightly pressed knees, into his chair. His eyes fixed on the floor, trying his best not to let any magic seep or leak.</p><p>The next he is in Dean’s arms.</p><p>The little bits of contact they had allowed one another before are nothing compared to what it feels like to be against Cas. Dean feels Cas instinctively go lax against the warmth and pressure of Dean’s chest. The fizzing of Cas’ energy soothes into an energetic hum. The puffs of fuzz and green seem to swirl lazily about them. The touch is loose, appropriate, but yet intimate enough that they are both red in the face once their emotions settle enough to realize how close they are.</p><p>“See?” Dean asks, and it comes out rumbly between their chests.</p><p>Cas’ face goes darker red, blushing down to his chest. His eyes flick to Dean’s lips once, twice.</p><p>Dean licks them, blinks as their combined magic whispers through Castiel’s hair, glitters in his eyes and makes him look like a sacrifice that’s been anointed and left for Dean and Dean alone.</p><p>“Feel better?” Dean asks, whispers, breathes.</p><p>Cas’ lips part to speak, breathing in the heat of Dean’s outwards breath— they’re so close it’s the same air.</p><p>Cas nods, leaning in.</p><p><em>He’s leaning in, </em>Dean’s higher brain registers.</p><p>Dean leans forwards too, tastes the sweet in their air, in their space. Feels the charge in their skin, in the heat between them. The magic as it grounds him from his toes to his knees, up through his hips to his chest where they press together, the heat and the slick of their lips as they meet, slowly, wet and soft and so sweet—</p><p>
  <em>Thunk. Knock-Knock.</em>
</p><p>They both freeze, still as stone.</p><p>“Hello? Mr. Castiel?” A voice calls from outside of Cas’ thick wooden door.</p><p>Wait, Dean knows that voice.</p><p>“<em>Sam?!”</em></p><p> </p><p> </p>
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